


Bellamy's Secret

by grace_and_lucidity



Series: Saving Bellamy Blake [1]
Category: The 100
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Related, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:14:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26766364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grace_and_lucidity/pseuds/grace_and_lucidity
Summary: Clarke Griffin has very little freedom in her life, between her overprotective parents and her strong drive to excel at everything she does. Bellamy Blake's life is almost a polar opposite to her own. Growing up in hardship on Factory Station with no one to rely on but himself. Until one day, he needs help and Clarke decides she's the one to give it to him.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Saving Bellamy Blake [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950904
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63





	Bellamy's Secret

**Author's Note:**

> I want to write a series of one-shots where several different characters save Bellamy in some way. Because, let's face it, the poor boy NEVER got saved by his friends in Jason's version of the story. I'm happy to take any ideas you have but I'm starting with this one...some angst/smut/and fluff. Hope you enjoy. Comments always welcome:)
> 
> Special thanks to KGuptill for creating a moodboard for my story. It really helps bring it to life! Kris, you are the BEST!

*************************************************************************************************

Clarke yawned and checked her watch. She and Harper had been studying for three hours straight in the Ark’s library. She always shook her head when she saw that little hand-made sign hanging outside the small, cramped space. The Ark’s “library” consisted of two long, metal tables, some mismatched chairs, and a single wall of bookshelves with the tattered remains of books that had long ago been read by every single man, woman and child on the Ark. The spines were frayed and illegible, yet she could pick out any book she was looking for just by the size, thickness, and color. Computer access was the main way people held onto information now, but there was something about sitting in that room, opening a book, and turning the pages, even if it was one she’d read a dozen times before, that made her happy. She had once found images on the computer of a place called The Library of Congress. She couldn’t believe her eyes. The endless bookshelves, the beautiful leather bound chairs and wood (real wood!) tables. “Now that’s a library,” she breathed with envy.

Harper saw her yawn. “Maybe we should call it a night. Pike’s test can’t be that hard, right?”

Clarke shrugged. “Probably not.” She looked down at her careful notes, knowing she’d remember them verbatim. The point of studying at the library with Harper was not really her need to prepare, it was more about having a few hours out of her quarters, where she wasn’t under the watchful eye of her protective parents. Studying was one of the only outside activities they approved of. She stood and stretched. “I’ll see you bright and early,” she said.

When she left the library it occurred to her that she didn’t have to head back home right away. She had at least fifteen minutes before her parents would start checking their watches. Turning left instead of right, she started walking quickly, checking to see if anyone noticed her. It was late enough that most people had already headed back to their own quarters so she didn’t run into anyone in the tight corridor leading to the Factory Station. This was an area she wasn’t allowed to enter, but one that held endless fascination for her.

As she rounded another turn she heard voices and ducked into a darkened doorway. She held her breath as she heard people approaching and shrank herself into the tight space as far back as she could. Another minute and the voices were right on top of her.

“Bring him over here,” a male voice said. She watched as a boy about her age walked directly past her and glanced over his shoulder. She recognized John Murphy, one of the biggest trouble makers in her class. Soon after there were three other boys coming down the hallway. She didn’t recognize them, but two of them were dragging a struggling third between them. Miraculously, no one noticed her. She waited until they had turned around the corner and walked cautiously behind them. She could still hear them talking in muffled voices and determined they had stepped into a utility closet just down the corridor. She backed up to the wall and inched her way forward, straining her ears.

“You got what you wanted,” she heard a low, gravelly voice say. “I fight. You and your friends are entertained. I get extra rations. That’s the deal.”

“No,” said Murphy. “The deal is you throw the fight when I tell you to, idiot. I don’t have extra rations, because I lost the bet. So now, the way I see it, you owe me.”

“Fuck you,” the voice said. Clarke winced as she heard the sound of a fist meeting flesh and a low grunt of pain.

“Fuck me?” said Murphy. “Did you hear that, boys? Bellamy wants to fuck me.” There was a snicker from the other two. “Alright, Blake. I guess I can let you make it up to me.”

The sounds of struggle came next. “Get him down on his knees,” Murphy said. “Let’s see if he’s as good at sucking cock as his whore mother.”

Clarke’s heart was racing. What was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t walk away from someone about to get assaulted. But there were three of them and one of her.

“Come on, Clarke,” she whispered to herself. She drew herself up straight, took a deep breath and stormed into the supply closet.

“What the hell is going on?” Clarke yelled. All three of them froze and looked at her. Murphy had already unbuckled his pants and the other two had forced who Clarke assumed was Bellamy down onto his knees. One of them had his arms pinned tightly behind him. The other had a fistful of Bellamy’s dark, curly hair in his hand and was forcing his head back. His mouth and nose were bloody and his left eye was swollen nearly shut. Bellamy looked at Clarke with his good eye but gave no sign that he recognized her or that he was relieved she’d intervened.

Murphy paused, his hands still on his zipper. He gave her a big grin.

“Hey, Princess,” he drawled. “You lost? I’ve never seen you over here on the dark side.” He turned around and faced her. Clarke was shaking with nerves.

“I asked what you’re doing,” she gestured to the boy on his knees. “It looks a lot like sexual assault.” She tried to make her voice steady, crossing her arms in front of her to hide her nerves.

“This isn’t any of your business, Clarke,” Murphy growled at her. “If you’re smart, you’ll walk away and forget what you saw here.”

“I’m not going to walk away. You’re going to let him go, or I’ll report you.” She stood her ground, waiting.

Murphy sighed and threw up his hands. “Fine. Do what the Princess says, boys. Her mom is on the council.” He looked back to Clarke. The other two boys released Bellamy and shoved their way past her and out into the corridor. Clarke started toward Bellamy and Murphy grabbed her arm.

“Trust me. This low life piece of shit isn’t worth your trouble,” he said. She jerked her arm away from him and glared at him as he shrugged and turned to head out the door. “See you in class, Princess.”

As soon as Murphy was out the door, Clarke knelt down in front of Bellamy, who had leaned back against the wall and was wiping his face with his shirt sleeve. He didn’t look at her.

“Murphy’s right, this isn’t any of your business. And it isn’t your fight. So you should go.”

Clarke frowned. “Can I at least look at your face? My mom’s a...”

“I know who your mom is,” Bellamy interrupted her. “And no, I don’t need you to look at anything. I just need you to go.” She could tell he was trying hard not to break down in front of her so she stood up and nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll go. But I’m going to make sure you get back to your quarters without that asshole coming back. So come on,” she held out her hand to him. He looked at her hand, then up at her face and sighed heavily.

“Fine,” he took her hand and stood up, gesturing to the door. “After you.”

She let Bellamy lead the way through the narrow corridors.

“So,” Clarke said nervously. “You...uh...you fight? Like in front of a crowd?”

Bellamy gave a small nod. “I fight, yeah. It helps pay the bills.”

“Isn’t it illegal?” Clarke asked, then immediately wished she hadn’t.

Bellamy stopped walking and gave her a funny look. “Do you actually live in a world where everyone follows the rules?”

She shrugged, suddenly feeling very prissy and very, very stupid. “Yeah. I guess so.”

He snorted. “Must be nice.” He continued walking.

Factory Station was, in comparison to her own section of the Ark, a dilapidated mess. Bare bulbs lined the patchwork of metal plated walls. The entire thing looked like it was held together with spare parts. She chided herself for being so surprised that this is how so many people on the Ark lived. Her privilege had kept her from having to consider it, until now. After following Bellamy through several turns, she realized she was completely lost. He finally stopped in front of a door with the name Blake scratched into a metal plate on it.

“Home sweet home,” he muttered. She looked around for a minute. “So, I’m safe, Princess. You really can go back to your palace now,” he said. She felt shame burn her cheeks. Then she heard him give a small chuckle.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?” he asked. She gave a small nod. “Yeah, this place is maze,” he said. He pointed ahead. “When you get just past that red light up there on the left, you’ll turn right, twice. After that, you turn left another time. That opens into the main corridor. You should be able to find your way back from there.”

She gave him a small smile. “Thanks. And I mean it...if you need me to look at that cut on your face I can...”

He held up a hand. “I’m fine, really. I’ve been through much worse. So...goodbye,” he said forcefully. She felt stung and turned, walking quickly away.

“Hey...” he called after her. She stopped and looked back at him. Bellamy shifted on his feet. “Thanks for...stepping in back there.”

She nodded and turned to find her way back home.

************************************************************************

She was proud of herself for only being ten minutes later than she’d told her parents she would be, but her mother met her as soon as she got in the door.

“You’re late,” Abby chided.

“Sorry, mom,” she said. “Harper needed me to finish explaining one of the math problems to her. I lost track of time. Besides, I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks. Don’t you think it’s time to loosen up a little bit?”

Her mom ignored that. “I left your dinner out if you’re hungry. I’ve got an early morning so I’m going to go on to bed.” She turned to leave.

“Mom?” Clarke asked. “Do you happen to know of a family from Factory Station named Blake?”

Abby stopped and turned around to look at her. “I do,” she said slowly. “Why do you ask?”

Clarke gave a small shrug. “I met a guy named Bellamy Blake. At...um...the library.” She tried to sound nonchalant. “I just wondered. I’d never heard the name before.”

Her mom gave her funny look. “I’m surprised Bellamy was in the library. He dropped out of school about a year ago.” A look of something Clarke couldn’t identify passed over Abby’s face. Guilt maybe?

“Why did he drop out?” Clarke asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Abby responded. “But you need to avoid that kid.”

“Why?” Now Clarke’s interest was really up. “And why did he drop out? I want to know.”

Abby sighed. “His mother, Aurora, was put in jail last year. He dropped out and started working as a janitor to support himself.” She tried to turn away again but this time Clarke grabbed her arm.

“Mom, why would the council put his mother in jail? A year ago he would have been a minor. Why would you do that?” Clarke could feel her anger building on behalf of Bellamy, who she’d only met a half hour ago.

“His mother was a prostitute, Clarke. She was earning extra rations for....”

“Jesus, mom. I know what a prostitute is,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “What about the men?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the men who hired her? Are they in jail, too?” Clarke asked, glaring at her mother.

Abby shifted uncomfortably. “Several of them are important members of the council,” she started to explain. Clarke was already shaking her head.

“Unbelievable!” she yelled. “You would put a woman in jail, and leave her son with no resources, forcing him to drop out of school and fend for himself?” She was shaking with rage.

“Clarke, it wasn’t an easy decision. We opted not to float her. She’ll serve her time and then be free to return home.”

“The damage is done, though. Don’t you get that?” Clarke asked. “Bellamy already lost a year of his life. Just so some important assholes on the council can avoid having to own up to their infidelity. The hypocrisy in this Station is really fucked up!”

“Clarke Griffin!” Clarke’s father walked into the room. “You will not use that kind of language. Apologize to your mother.” Clarke glared at both her parents.

“Fine. I’m sorry,” she replied. “But you should be too,” she shoved past them and ran into her room, throwing herself onto her bed. Her mind settled on Bellamy’s face. Something about those eyes, that voice, made her want to know more about him. She fell asleep in the middle of formulating a plan to make that happen.

****************************************************************************

The next week, Clarke made the excuse of studying in the library to her parents and instead headed straight to Factory Station. She had been eavesdropping on enough of Murphy’s conversations to know when and where a fight was happening between Bellamy and a new opponent. Sneaking down the corridor she followed the voices she could hear in the distance until they became louder and she could tell she’d found the right place.

She crept into the narrow doorway that opened into a large, empty storage room. People were tightly packed around the edges of the room and she noticed with dismay that she recognized several faces from her own station. She tried to stay in the shadows as much as possible but keep a clear view on the center of the room. She held her breath as Bellamy entered to a round of applause. He was shirtless and she had a hard time taking her eyes off his broad shoulders and toned chest. His face looked mostly healed from last week’s fight and she noticed for the first time how many freckles he had sprinkled across his nose.

“How did I never meet this guy before,” she thought to herself. There was more than one school on the Ark, but seriously, if Bellamy Blake had ever so much as walked past her, she was sure she wouldn’t have forgotten.

After Bellamy had stopped in the center of the room, a much larger tattooed man entered. The crowd grew hushed. Bellamy turned and looked at the man but seemed un-phased by his menacing appearance. He eyes instead travelled across the crowd, nearly landing on Clarke, who ducked behind the taller man standing in front of her.

Clarke peered back out into the ring. A third man had entered, gesturing for the two fighters to face one another and shake hands. Then he walked to the edge, blew a whistle and the fight began.

Bellamy was fast, darting in, jabbing at his opponent, and darting back. The larger man, for all his strength, was not nearly as coordinated and Bellamy managed to get several direct punches in. Each time, the crowd cheered. He was clearly a fan favorite. Clarke continued to move around the edge of the room and stopped when she saw Murphy and his two friends. They were watching the fight with interest and clearly not happy when Bellamy was scoring points. Murphy began shaking his head and Clarke moved closer to try to hear what he was saying above the roar of the other onlookers.

“This fucking asshole is gonna ignore my direction again,” Murphy was saying. “He knows he’s supposed to lose.” Clarke watched as Murphy inched closer to the inside of the ring. He waited until Bellamy was only about a foot away from him, looked back at his friends and pulled something out of his pocket. Clarke gasped when she saw he held a syringe. She tried to push her way through the people standing between her and Murphy, but she couldn’t make it before he lunged forward, pretending to fall into Bellamy and jabbed the needle into his shoulder.

“Oh, sorry man!” he laughed. Bellamy punched him in the face and knocked him backwards.

Then he held his hand up to his shoulder and wiped at the injection site. “You son of a bitch!” He yelled.

The bigger fighter approached Bellamy from behind, picked him up, and threw him full force onto the ground. Bellamy appeared stunned but managed to scramble to his feet just as the man landed another punch to his face. He staggered, but still raised his fists up in front of him. Clarke watched in horror as he began to sway, blinked a few times, then dropped to the floor. The crowd grew silent and waited for Bellamy to get up. When it was clear he wasn’t going to, they began to disperse. The other fighter walked up to Bellamy, gave him a rough nudge with his foot, then shrugged and walked out of the ring.

Clarke pushed her way through the remaining people and knelt down in front of Bellamy. He was staring, glassy-eyed at the ceiling. She put her fingers to his neck and found his pulse, strong and fast.

“Bellamy,” she cried. “Can you hear me?”

He rolled his head to the side at the sound of her voice. “What just happened?” he slurred. She put her arm under his neck and helped him up to a sitting position. As she was doing this, she felt someone approach behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Murphy hovering and leering at her.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you Clarke?” He laughed. “You must really have it bad for this son of a whore.” He threw a stack of ration tickets onto the floor near Bellamy.

“Here’s your earnings for tonight,” he said, turning and walking out of the room. Clarke collected the tickets and put them in her pocket while she helped Bellamy to his feet.

“I’m not arguing with you this time,” she said. “You’re coming with me to the sick bay. I want to find out what Murphy drugged you with.” She put her arm around his waist, trying to ignore the heat of his bare skin and the way it was sending a shockwave of desire through her. Bellamy didn’t seem to be in a mood to argue with her, he just nodded and let her lead him out of the room.

Once they made it to the sick bay, Clarke pulled her key card out and swiped the door open. Bellamy gave her a quizzical look. “You have access to sick bay?”

She smiled. “I work with my mom in the lab sometimes. I’m not supposed to go in after hours. I’ll just tell her I left my books in here.” She hustled him to an exam table and gestured for him to sit. He watched her as she pulled a couple of instruments from a drawer and turned to face him.

“Give me your hand,” she said. He offered his hand to her and she took his wrist gently, pressing down with her thumb and counting to herself. “Your pulse is back to normal,” she said. Next she shone a bright light in his eyes, watching his pupils dilate and contract. She poured him a glass of water and handed it to him.

“My guess is that it was just a really distilled sedative. I think you’ll be okay, but you’ll probably have a headache tomorrow.” Bellamy sipped his water and nodded. As he brought his hand up, Clarke noticed how bloody his knuckles were.

“Oh, let me wrap your hand while I’m here,” she said. She pulled gauze out of the drawer and Bellamy watched her face as she carefully cleaned and wrapped his hand. She looked up and smiled at him and he looked quickly away, clearing his throat and hopping off the table.

“Well, thanks then,” he said. “I hope you don’t get into trouble because of me.” He still appeared to be somewhat unsteady, so she grabbed his arm.

“Maybe I should walk you back home again,” she said.

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

“Okay,” she said. He turned to go. “Oh! I almost forgot. These are yours,” she pulled the ration tickets from her pocket and handed them to him.

He nodded and shoved them into his own pocket. He gave her a strange smile. “Look, you seem like a really nice girl. I appreciate what you’ve done...twice. But you need to stop coming over to Factory Station.”

“Why’s that?” Clarke asked, a little stung at the ‘nice girl’ comment.

He bit his lip and thought about what he should say. “It’s not a place for...people like you. It’s not a good place.”

Clarke thrust her chin out in defiance. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for your concern.”

She followed him out the door, making sure it was locked behind her.

“So, I’ll see you around, then. Thanks again,” Bellamy said. He disappeared before she could say anything else.

****************************************************************************

It was two weeks before Clarke saw Bellamy again. She was once again in the library, working with Harper, her back to the door. Harper looked up at someone entering the room, but Clarke was so engrossed in her notes, she didn’t notice Bellamy until he was standing right next to her. He cleared his throat quietly and she startled, looking up into his brown eyes. He was wearing his janitor’s coveralls, shifting on his feet uncomfortably, clearly embarrassed to be standing in front of two girls from Alpha Station. But there was something else wrong. Clarke could see it on his face. She stood up.

“Hi,” she said quietly. Bellamy dipped his head.

“Can I...uh...talk to you for a second?” he asked, glancing at Harper.

“Sure,” Clarke said. “Harper, I’ll be right back.” Harper gave her a quizzical look and shrugged.

She followed Bellamy out into the corridor. “What’s up?” she asked.

Bellamy looked around nervously and leaned close to her. “I need your help,” he said. “I don’t know who else to ask.”

“Okay,” Clarke said. “Of course. What do you need?”

“I need to show you actually. If you have time.” He was agitated, fidgety.

“Let me grab my bag.” Clarke turned, retrieved her bag from the table, gave Harper a quick excuse, and followed Bellamy down the corridor.

“Where are we going,” she asked.

“My quarters,” he said without turning around. She felt a little rush of anticipation at the thought of seeing where Bellamy actually spent his days, and his nights. Her throat felt dry suddenly.

“Okay,” she croaked, practically sprinting to keep up with him. When they finally reached his door he turned around.

“Clarke,” he began. “I don’t know how much you know about me.” He looked at the ground. “My mom...”

Clarke reached out for his hand without thinking. He looked up, surprised. “I know about your mom, Bellamy. I’m sorry.” He nodded.

“Right now, I have a bigger problem than that,” he said. He gave her hand a squeeze. “I need someone I can trust.” His eyes held such a pleading expression she felt tears building in her own.

“You can trust me,” she whispered. “I swear.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “We’re going in, and you’re going to meet someone. Someone no one else on the Ark even knows exists.” He turned his door latch and led her inside.

Clarke entered the Blake’s tiny quarters. The central room was almost entirely taken up by a small metal table and chairs. Pushed against the far wall was a faded, torn sofa. A cramped cooking niche was off to the other side and a small door leading into what she assumed was the bathroom and bedroom was straight ahead. Her heart hurt when she realized that this was where Bellamy spent the majority of his hours when he wasn’t cleaning up after other people as a janitor, or visiting his mom in jail, or fighting for extra rations. She wasn’t prepared for what he said next as he opened the door to the bedroom.

“Clarke, this is my sister, Octavia.” Clarke gasped as a girl not much younger than herself crept into the room and looked warily at her and then at Bellamy. She was holding her right arm, wrapped in a towel, close to her chest.

“Bellamy,” Octavia whispered urgently. “What are you doing?” She jerked her head at Clarke. “Why would you bring someone here?”

“O, this is Clarke,” Bellamy said. “We can trust her.” Clarke’s heart gave a little jump when she heard that. “I brought her here to look at your arm. Her mom’s a medic. She can help.”

Clarke jumped into action. “What’s wrong with your arm?” she asked, tossing her school bag onto the floor and approaching Octavia, who took a step back and looked at her with suspicion.

“She cut herself,” Bellamy said. “It looks deep. I think she needs stitches and I’m worried it’s going to get infected. I can’t take her to the sick bay because...”  
  
“Because I don’t exist,” Octavia said, her voice dripping with bitterness.

Clarke frowned at Bellamy. “How do you have a sister?” She asked. “No one on the Ark has a sibling.”  
  
Bellamy gave a little chuckle. “Well, I guess I could explain the birds and the bees to you if I need to but...”  
Clarke blushed and put her hand up. “I don’t mean that. I mean...never mind.” She pulled a chair out from the table and gestured for Octavia to do the same.

“Can I see the cut?” She asked gently. Octavia unwrapped her arm slowly to reveal a deep, angry gash that had clearly happened at least a day previously.

Clarke took Octavia’s arm and studied it. “What did you cut it on?” She asked. “The skin looks almost torn apart.”

Bellamy had been hovering over them both and finally settled into his own chair. He bowed his head to avoid looking Clarke in the eye.

“Octavia has to,” he brought his hand up and pulled at the back of his neck in obvious frustration. “She has to hide under the floor. Every time someone comes here for an inspection, or delivery. Sometimes they surprise us and we have to move quickly. She snagged her arm on the edge of the floor...here.” He gestured to a spot under the table and Clarke glanced down to see a barely visible square panel that could be raised.

She looked at the two of them incredulously. “She hides? Under the floor?” She was shaking her head. “You’re what? Fifteen?”

“Sixteen,” Octavia answered.

“You’ve been hiding under the floor...for sixteen years?” She looked at Bellamy. “How is that even possible?”

He pushed away from the table. “If anyone knows Octavia exists, my mom gets floated, alright?” He was angry. “If you can help us, I’d appreciate it. If you want to judge us, please leave and just keep your mouth shut.”

Clarke immediately regretted what she’d said. She stood up too. “I’m not judging. I’m sorry. It’s just. No one finding out about this for sixteen years is just...unbelievable.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, we didn’t have a choice.” His voice was softer now. “So, can you help her?”

Clarke nodded. “Can you bring me some hot water and rags? And do you have a needle and thread?”

Octavia looked alarmed. “Is this going to hurt?”  
Clarke sighed. “I’m afraid so. I’m going to have to stitch this up and I don’t have anything to numb it.”

“Mom is...was, a seamstress,” Bellamy said. “I’ll get her sewing stuff.” He returned from the bedroom with a sewing basket that Clarke began to rummage through while he went to get water and rags. When he came back, he sat and scooted his chair close to Octavia.

“O, I want you to just look at me,” he said quietly. “It’s gonna be okay, just hold my hand.”

Octavia bit her lip and took Bellamy’s hand, extending her injured arm towards Clarke, who began to wipe the wound clean and inspect it for infection. “It looks okay,” she said. “I’m going to go ahead and stitch it up, okay?” She waited for Octavia to nod and took the smallest needle she could find, ran the thread through, and began. It was slow work and Octavia occasionally gasped and squeezed Bellamy’s hand tightly. He put his other hand on her shoulder and stroked it, whispering encouragement.

Clarke focused on her work intently, but whenever Bellamy whispered to Octavia, she could sense the tension leaving the girl’s body at the sound of her brother’s voice. She felt strange, like she was witnessing the most incredibly intimate and personal bond between two people she’d ever seen before. Then she realized it was because there wasn’t anyone else with a bond like this. As far as she knew, the Blakes were the only siblings in the entire universe. For some reason, she felt overcome with affection for them both, for the fact they trusted her and allowed her to see their relationship, which had been a secret they’d kept from the world for their entire lives. She felt somehow like this was a gift she didn’t deserve.

“Finished,” she announced, tying the thread delicately and giving Octavia a pat on the wrist. “You did great.” Octavia smiled at her.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I wish I had something to give you for the pain,” Clarke said.  
“I have something,” Bellamy said. He went into the bedroom and returned with a small bottle of pills. He handed it to Clarke. “Would this work? They’re my mom’s.”

  
Clarke read the label. “They’re sleeping pills. But yeah, if she takes one, it would probably put her out until morning. Let me wrap it and then she should lay down.”

Bellamy brought Octavia a cup of water and she swallowed the pill. He stroked her head and kissed her lightly on the temple. “Time for bed, sis.”

She walked in to the tiny bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. Bellamy pulled the cover over her gently and shut the door behind him as he returned to the living area.

Clarke was getting ready to pick up her bag and leave. She startled when she heard Bellamy speak right behind her.

“Can you stay for a minute?” he asked, his voice soft.

  
She turned around to find his face inches from her own. She had never seen eyes the color of Bellamy’s before, dark brown but with a gold that seemed to radiate from within. Her throat felt dry and she tried to speak.

“Uh...sure, for a minute,” she said. He took her hand and pulled her down next to him on the sofa.

“Will you promise me that you won’t tell anyone about Octavia?” he asked. “Please?”

“Bellamy, you don’t need to worry. I’m not saying anything. Ever.” He nodded, appearing convinced. He was wringing his hands together, working his jaw, clearly nervous.

“You okay?” She asked.

“Yeah, it’s just...I’ve never,” he stopped. “I’ve never had a girl in my home before.” He ran his hands rapidly up and down his thighs and blew out a sigh. “I actually haven’t had much of a social life at all, to be honest.”

Clarke felt the last barrier to her emotions give way and a wave of love washed over her for this boy, so clearly in pain, without a mother, forced to become a parent to his sister. His loneliness was so apparent and so heartbreaking that before she knew what she was doing, she was cupping his beautiful face between her hands and bringing her lips to his. His eyes widened in surprise and then he brought his own hand to the back of her neck, angling his head slightly and pulling her into his embrace. The heat of his mouth matched the heat Clarke could feel spreading throughout her body. She pulled away gently and gazed at him, in awe that she had never known exactly what it would feel like to love someone but also certain that she had just fallen completely and utterly in love with Bellamy Blake.

“Clarke,” Bellamy’s voice was husky with desire. “I...you should probably go.”

“Do you really want me to go?” She asked. He shook his head but remained silent. Feeling bold, she ran her hand along his thigh, the tips of her fingers grazing his erection through his pants. He inhaled sharply.

“God, you’re killing me here,” he whispered. He slid further back into the sofa, leaning his head back.

She didn’t know if the exhilaration she felt was more from her own desire or from seeing the effect she was having on him. But it emboldened her and she slid off the sofa and onto her knees in between Bellamy’s thighs.

“Clarke,” he tried to sit up again. “You shouldn’t...” she put her hand on his chest and pushed him gently back into the sofa.

“Shhhh,” she smiled. “I think I should.”

Bellamy’s breathing became ragged and fast as she unzipped his pants and pulled his cock free. She could tell he was trying his best not to lose control. His hands gripped the edge of the sofa cushion tightly and he leaned his head back again. As she wrapped her hand tightly around the base of his cock and brought her mouth down on him, he let out a low animal-like moan. It made her feel powerful, bringing him to this state.

“Please...” he gasped. “Please don’t stop.” She began working him with her tongue and he put his hand to the back of her head, threading his fingers into her hair and bucking his hips upwards. She continued to suck him and stroke him until he put both his hands on her shoulders and tried to gently push her off of him.

“Clarke,” he panted, “I want to be inside you.”

Clarke stood up and pulled her shirt over her head and slipped out of her pants. Bellamy never took his eyes off her as he pulled off his own shirt. She straddled him and put her hands on his shoulders, her blond hair creating a veil around them both.

He put his hand out and stroked her face gently. “Where did you come from?” he whispered.

She lowered herself slowly onto him, watching his face as he completely fell apart. The agony of his desire was so beautiful to her that she rose off of him and then repeated the movement just so she could watch it again. His eyes grew dark with lust and he grabbed her hips the third time she tried to rise and held her down as he thrust his hips up hard, driving himself into her. She gasped and it was his turn to smile at her loss of control. From that moment they become completely synced, each matching the other’s movements perfectly. Clarke was the first to climax and she grabbed the back of Bellamy’s hair, holding on for dear life as she tried to ride the wave of desire without crying out and waking up Octavia. Bellamy held her close for a minute afterwards, then began his own fast, brutal rhythm. He dug his fingers into her hips, holding her in place as his entire body shuddered with his orgasm. They wrapped their arms around each other tightly and rocked back and forth as their heartbeats slowed.

He kissed her gently before letting her rise off of him and slip back into her clothes. She sat down next to him and he laced his fingers into hers and looked at her. He brought her hand up to his lips and closed his eyes.

“What now?” he asked. She squeezed his hand.

“We look after each other,” she said.

“Yeah. I like that idea.” He smiled. 

  



End file.
